Listen to the Thunder
by DyingVixen
Summary: When Toki is called home to bury his Mother, he is left with a surprising, yet not unwelcome, gift; his twin sister. Kept apart as children, Thora and Toki set off from the frozen wasteland of Norway to thrive and learn from one another. Arriving at the 'haus, Thora is faced with two more challenges: Keeping a spot in Morhaus by modeling, and chasing the coldest heart around. *edit
1. The Perfect Storm

Disclaimer: Okay, So I don't Own Nathan or Pickles or Skwisgaar, and hell, I wouldn't own Murderface if he were free, but sadly, I don't own Toki. I DO however own Thora.

A/N: Okay, so here's just the prologue. Have funnn!

**edited

She paced. Around and around and around. She paced. She stopped in front of her full-length mirror. Her cyan eyes, glistening in anticipation, outlined in simple kitten liner. She ran her tongue over her shell-pink lips, and sighed. Scrutiny. She must look perfect. She began to pick at her gray v-neck sweater, pulling off little fuzzies and random hairs here and there. She was, in all matters, a nervous wreck.

Thora took a deep breath as her mother called to her. Her namesake, the god of Thunder, was brave, strong, and powerful, just as she must be. Trying not to set herself up for disappointment, she tucked a brunette strand behind her ear, and took one last look at herself, looking closely at every flaw. She wasn't especially curvy, had decent boobs, a D-cup, but her waist was only a size seven. Top heavy. Ugh. She was just your average Scandinavian. Just a Snowflake in this Tundra. Hopefully, she was enough to impress.

She flinched as her mother called her again, her voice a croak in their native tongue. A voice that had been silenced for so many years. The voice she hadn't heard until she was seventeen when her father had died. And now, in Anja Wartooth's old age, the voice of Death, and yet, of her last hope. She took a deep breath, hovering by the door to the living room in the small flat as she had been instructed. Semi-tight onyx denim clad her long legs as she fought the urge to run, and little deerskin moccasins warmed her toes in the frozen wasteland she called home.

The knock on the door came precisely at eight, just as she knew it would. He was never late, Mother had always said so. Her mother answered the door, and let the visitor into their small, pitiful flat. She'd have to appear soon, and hopefully, leave as well. Norway had nothing for Thora Wartooth, nothing but a life of silence, a life of a never-ending winter. A life alone.

Thora dared a peek around the corner as their visitor stepped through the doorway. He was a bit taller than she, she saw as she spied, as he stood hugging Mother. His hair was almost as long as hers, the same chestnut shade, perfect with the shine to it. She could see his eyes, the dancing, playful, concerned irises, and it was like a mirror. A damned reflection. The same azure orbs were set into the same pale, smooth face. His wasn't as gaunt as hers. He ate more, she could see, well fed, and with that, she breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted not for anything. He was well. She also had the feminine appeal gracing her face, whilst his took a more masculine appeal. His nose had the little turn hers did, but he had some sort of odd facial hair, and she giggled silently. He wore a blue tee-shirt. Blue had always been his favorite color.

He hadn't changed since she had last walked past the yard as he labored away six years prior, minus the facial hair and the healthy weight. Standing up straight and tall, she practiced her English in her head like she had been out loud all day.

'_Good evening Toki. My name is Thora. I made this for you._' She thought. She pictured herself handing him the portrait she'd drawn of them as children. It was detailed, and if not for the fact she knew she sketched it, slaved over it for weeks, could have been a photograph. She rehearsed her next line. '_This is you and I, before I went away. We were very close as children. I'm your sister. Your twin sister._'

Then Anja would plead for him to take her away with him. Offer him money for her if she had to. She was selling her again, but Thora knew it was to a better place this time. She'd watched Toki on the T.V. At the local music shop. He was sweet, and caring, and maybe, he'd like her enough to save her.

"Mor, det er deilig å se deg, men hvorfor ringte du meg ut her i en slik hast? Er det noe galt?" _Mother, it's lovely to see you, but why did you call me out here in such a hurry? Is something the matter?_ His voice was just a tad deeper, a light tenor, whilst she spoke in a rumbling alto. He lacked the female flourish, however, and his Norwegian was slightly accented.

"Toki, barnet mitt, jeg er veldig nær å sikre seg faren din." _Toki, my child, I'm very close to joining your father._ Anja croaked softly, holding Toki's hand from across the coffee table.

"Mor, ikke si det. De har gode leger i Amerika. Bli med meg, og de kan hjelpe deg." _Mother, don't say that. They have good doctors in America. Come with me, and they can help you._ He kept his voice unusually calm for someone receiving that news. Then again, Anja was high in her years. He had been expecting it.

"Nei, Toki, jeg vil hvile her. Min tid er snart." _No, Toki, I want to rest here. My time is soon._

"Du kalte meg hjem for å begrave deg?" _You called me home to bury you?_ Something was creeping into his voice. Something she'd heard often when he was bullied as a child. Determination. He was, she supposed, determined to be strong about this whole ordeal. It hurt Thora to hear her Mother talk like that, although she didn't love Anja.

"Ja, men nei. Toki, jeg har noen som ønsker å møte deg. Du kan miste meg, men du vil få en enda lysere stjerne i livet ditt. Du bør ha møtt dem for lenge siden, men velsignet Odin har endelig lov til å bli med." _Yes, but no. Toki, I have someone who would like to meet you. You may lose me, but you will gain an even brighter star in your life. You should have met them long ago, but blessed Odin has finally allowed you to join. _Her voice was cracking, softening.

That was her cue. She stepped around the corner, her hands behind her back, hiding the portrait of what they should have had. She pleaded for her voice and her English to cooperate.

"Good evenings, Toki." She took a deep breath, her alto quivering as she spoke the words that had long been trapped inside her mind.

Toki's mouth was slightly ajar. "Good evenings." He managed. He was awestruck. She looked like him!

"My names ams–"

"Thora."

She nodded, took a step closed to him, and he rose, briny blues meeting. "I mades dis for yous." She offered him the drawing, and he took it, examining it closely. His eyes clouded over. Misting with, she wasn't sure. They stood there for what seemed like the eternity she had hoped for and feared this moment.

"They tolds me yous was fakes. Imaginary friends." His voice was as dry as Anja's.

"It ams yous and me's before I wents aways. We was very closes, ja? I ams yous sisters, Toki Wartooth. You's twin sisters." She whispered those four sentences.

The male Wartooth looked from the picture to Thora to Anja, eyes darting, flashing, dancing like waves in the sun. They stood like that, for a long time, in a silence kept by the swirling snow outside. Finally, Anja beckoned to them, and so, they each took a side next to her on the sofa.

"Toki, barnet mitt, du er Lyn og hun er Torden. Vær så snill, er min tid kort. Ta henne med deg. Hjelpe henne. Holde henne tett alltid. La hennes fotspor følger din. Det er ingenting i moderlandet for henne. Gi henne en sjanse til å leve." _Toki, my child, you are the Lightning and she is the Thunder. Please, my time is short. Take her with you. Help her. Keep her close always. Let her footsteps follow yours. There is nothing in the Motherland for her. Give her a chance at living. _ Anja's voice was getting softer, the twins each taking a hand as Toki had placed the picture on the coffee table. Tears filled both their eyes, not because they loved her, but because they never had. They never could. She who had hurt them, let their father hurt them. She who had shown no love, spoke no words, held none close. She who was just a vessel.

And here it was, they knew, the end of her light in the world, and they had never had a Mother to love and cherish them. She had stood by as her husband beat Toki, beat Thora, and she had sold Thora more than once. It hurt both of them, very deeply, to watch someone they should have but did not love, die.

"Lyn, vær så snill, ta henne." _Lightning, please, take her._

"Ja, mamma, jeg tar henne." _Yes, Mama, I'll take her._ His voice was steady, although he was shaking. What would he do with her!?

"Lov meg?" _Promise me?_

"Kan Odin slår meg, jeg sverger det slik." _May Odin strike me, I swear it so._ He'd keep her safe, that's what he'd do. He didn't know how, he just knew that somehow, he would.

"Torden, lære av ham." _Thunder, learn from him._

"Ja, mamma, jeg lærer." _Yes, Mama, I'll learn._ Her voice was quiet. What could he teach her?

"La America gi deg sjansen." _Let America give you your chance._

"Jeg tar hver sjanse jeg får." _I'll take every chance I get._ Hopefully he wouldn't sell her.

"Måtte Herren av Silence våke over deg med hver bestått pusten. Kan Odin veilede deg, Loke vise deg, og Thor vakt deg. Sammen ..." _May the Lord of the Silence watch over you with each passing breath. May Odin guide you, Loki show you, and Thor guard you. Together... _She stopped to wheeze, which turned into a coughing fit they thought they'd never recover from. "Sammen, vil du være den perfekte stormen, ustoppelig og guddommelig. Jeg vil være sus av vinden i øret. Jeg har aldri elsket deg som jeg burde ha, men jeg vil elske deg nå, mine barn. Tvillingene mine. Min Lyn og min Torden." _Together, you will be the Perfect Storm, unstoppable and divine. I will be the whisper of the wind in your ear. I've never loved you as I should have, but I will love you now, my children. My twins. My Lightning and my Thunder. _

They both watched as the color from her milky, cataract eyes dulled, the light left. Silver streams trickled down both cheeks, flowing unchecked. They locked eyes. The Twins. The Perfect Storm.

They buried her in the caves beneath the Silent Church, in a tomb with their father. No one came but them. Neither said much, just as she never had. They'd never known Anja as they should have, but in a last blessing, she had brought them together. Those without twins would never understand, could never understand the unspoken bond they shared. They would never come apart now.

Toki cleaned the sparse flat of Thora's things, and set it to flame that night. In the flickering flames that licked the very heavens, Toki helped his sister into the black limo, heading for the airport. Away from the winter-land. Away from Lillehammer. Towards a future. A very bright future. He clutched the picture she'd drawn for him to his chest, Deddy resting in the crook of his elbow. He looked over it again. A mirrored reflection, the lightning bolt and the thunder clap. They were the perfect storm.

A/N: Well, I think it's a nice start! I'll write again soon, but it's 4:00 A.M., and I have class in four hours. Goodnight Fanfiction, Helloooooo sleep!

I edited it :)


	2. Binding Blood

Disclaimer: yes yes, don't own Dethklok or Metalocalypse or any of thattt! Yes, own Thora. Blah!

A/n: Hey guys! I'm obviously re-vamping this whole story, so be patient 3 Oh, and I've decided to ship Skwisgaar and Thora.

Fear is something that strikes you so deep in the heart, you have one of two options: you can either let it devour you, become a living slave to it, and let it dig so deep it becomes embedded in your soul, or you can fight it, conquer it, and rationalize it. When we fear, we fear deep. When we choose flight over fight, it's no flight at all, just stalling until fear rears it's ugly head again. To defeat it, to conquer it, is to fight it. To be strong.

Strength, well, that was something Thora defiantly needed. She peered from the couch where she lounged at her Lyn, who was seated at the table. The light above the only source in the dark cabin as the private jet soared over the water. He was busy, his tongue between his teeth, his eyes focused, and his fingers, dexterous but careful, crafting something. She couldn't see what it was from her angle.

Her anxiety rose as each mile of sea passed beneath them. Toki had "talked" to her, meaning warned her, about his fellow band-mates. Nathan, the vocalist, was quiet, dark, and would help Toki look after her. Pickles, the drummer, was an alcoholic, an addict, but sensible. Murderface, she believed Toki had called him, was dangerous. He adored knives, was reckless, and well, she preferred not to think of what else. And then, there was _him_. She had watched him on the television, focused almost as much as she had on Toki. Skwisgaar Skwigelf, the fastest guitar player in the world. He was from Sweden. He'd be able to somewhat understand her Norwegian. Thank Thor!

Her cyan eyes re-focused on Toki, who was nearly done whatever he was doing. She rose silently, well, attempted to is more like it. She found herself tangled in a blanket, and face-planting. Apparently, her sweet brother had covered her up. He was at her side in an instant, sitting her up. Tears filled her eyes. Why was she crying!? This was a stupid reason to cry! But she felt the extra wet on her face, and saw a splotch of red swiftly consuming whatever fibers of the snow-white carpet it could consume. That made her tears come harder.

Toki was beside himself. She was sobbing, and he had no idea what to do! He whistled, and a Gear appeared, to which he muttered something Thora couldn't hear. The Gear re-appeared with some tissues, ice, and a rag. Toki pulled her to him, holding onto her in a most protective way, rocking with her convulsing chest.

"Hysj. Thora elskling, hysj nå. Hvorfor gråter du? Er du skadet?"_ Shh. Thora darling, hush now. Why are you crying? Are you hurt?_

His voice was wobbly. He was nervous himself. He barely knew the woman he held as she bled all over him and the carpet, and soaked him with her tears. Sure now, they'd had a long talk full of quiet voices and sad smiles, but still. Toki knew that deep down inside, he knew who she was, as he always had. He just, well damn it! How could he not be worried to upset her!

She shook her head, trying to stop the red river pouring from her nose, only succeeding in coating her hand. Toki rolled two tissues just like Pickles had taught him how to roll a blunt, and gently inserted one in each nostril. With hands as careful as they were with whatever he had been working on, he wiped the blood first from her face, then her hands, and whatever he could get off her clothes. Other tissues were retrieved to slay her tears, and then, it was just the silent sobs into his shoulder. He kept his arm wrapped around her, tightly.

Finally, she stilled, and pulled away gingerly, replacing the tissues for the third time. Toki then offered the ice, which she gingerly held to her nose. She looked at him, mascara streaks down her cheeks, blue eyes darkened and puffy.

"Jeg er så lei Toki! Jeg ødela teppet! Og du er blodig! Oh jeg er så lei! Vennligst ikke send meg hjem!" _I'm so sorry Toki! I ruined your carpet! And you're all bloody! Oh I'm so sorry! Please don't send me home!_ It all just tumbled out of her mouth, her words a gurgling jumble as fresh tears sprang from her eyes. Toki's face morphed into something that made her nervous. He looked taken aback, and hurt, as if she had struck him. He moved very close to her, so their foreheads were touching. She winced as he bumped her nose, but he did not move.

"Thora, torden elskling. Teppet er ingen big deal. Det vil bli erstattet, det er ikke dyrt. Som for å sende deg hjem ... Jeg vil ikke sende deg. Jeg blir med deg. Jeg vet det er vanskelig, men Amerika er ditt nye hjem. Norge har ingenting for deg, og jeg vil aldri sende deg tilbake. Jeg vil aldri. Du vil aldri forlate min side. Forstår du?" _Thora, thunder darling. The carpet is no big deal. It will be replaced, it's not expensive. As for sending you home... I wouldn't send you. I'm coming with you. I know it's hard, but America is your new home. Norway has nothing for you, and I would never send you back. I never will. You will never leave my side. Do you understand?_

She nodded slowly, and then lunged at him, her arms flying around his neck, her face buried into his shoulder, falling with him as he toppled over.

"Takk, Toki. Takk."

A/N: Yes, complete edit. Comments? Next chapter later 3


	3. Haus of Many Hells

Disclaimer: I do, in no way, own Metalocalypse, or any of its settings, characters, or items. I do, however, own Thora Wartooth, and her belongings, personality, and appearance although she _is_ based off previously created characters.

Authors Note: Yes, it's been a while. I've run into severe issues (such as a computer crash, issues with my "non-detailed disclaimer", and just basically being overrun with college and work, so sorry! Here's your next chapter loves. Feel free to e-mail any ideas to dyingvixen , or find me on tumblr ( .com) or twitter, which is also DyingVixen. Google me and I'm sure I'll pop up . Anyway! Sorry for the ramble. Here's your awaited story.

Music Influence: Jersey - Mayday Parade - VERY GOOD SONG! Listen to it ^_^ It's so Skwisgaar, JUST saying.

Triple Toki: Contact me! :D 3

Terror was a word that wouldn't even come _close_ to describing the swirling fear inside of Thora. She stood in the vast doorway of what Toki had called "Mordhaus". The House of Death; it was huge, dark, and what Toki called "brutal".

"Comes on guys! Yous haves to meets her!" she heard Toki's tenor ring from within the long, shadowy halls. She shivered, trying to shake the feeling of the 'haus swallowing her whole. She shuddered, managing to push the thought from her mind just as her taller half re-appeared.

He was stuffing what appeared to be a peppermint into his grinning mouth as he slung an arm casually about her shoulders. Her knees buckled from the weight. She straightened her violet v-neck just as four large bodies moved into the doorway. Thora began observing, learning, immediately.

The first was the biggest, long raven hair with bright eyes. He was all muscle, and surely monster size, but not the tallest. The next had bags under his eyes. He was jittery, drumming his fingers on his legs; an addict of something she decided. A ginger, hair dreaded, with eyes more emerald than Oz. Then came an odder sight. A gap you could kick a field goal through, a mop of brown curls, with a bristly mustache to match. Dark eyes, hurt eyes, with an even darker expression. Scars glistened white on his tanned skin.

And then, then came one more. Tall, taller than a tree, perhaps. Blonde, icy eyes colder than her homeland. Muscular, thin, sharp features, high cheekbones. She knew. '_A Nord._'. She ripped her eyes away at the sound of her name.

"_Ja_, Thora?" The brunette beside her questioned. She nodded shakily, unsure of the question. Toki spoke to her in Norweigan, explaining the history of something or another. She wasn't listening, though. She was watching the blonde as he scraped something off the doorway, or at least pretended to.

"She looks doable." The raven whispered to the ginger, for once not meaning it sexually.

"Brutal! A twin! Like, fackin' identicle!" The ginger whispered back.

"But prettier than Toki." The raven observed, snickering.

"Schits, Toki! Sche'sch like a clonesch!" The one with the scars exclaimed.

"Guys, this ams Thora! Thora, meets da guys!" Toki looked overly pleased with himself, having finished his explanation to his oblivious sister.

An awkward ten second silence followed. Toki was just grinning adorably.

"Well, er, are you going to introduce us?" A fifth man appeared. He was older, wore glasses, was much shorter, and two-hundred percent business.

"Oh! Hallo! Thora, this ams Charle Ofdensens. He be da managers!"

Charles shook her small, soft hand gently.

"A pleasure Miss Wartooth. We'll be meeting after dinner. Toki, bring her, eight sharp. Do not be late."

"Ja ja!"

Ofdensen scooched past the group, exchanging a glance with the ginger, the rushing to an awaiting limo. Only Thora seemed to notice the exchange, as Toki was continuing.

"Okies! Well, dis ams Nat'an Espelozin! He da –"

"Ugh. Toki, if you're going to slaughter our names, we'll, uh, do it ourselves." Nathan growled. Toki frowned, but allowed him to proceed.

"Nathan Explosion. Front man and lead vocalist." The raven grumbled. Thora smiled, which she was sure looked more like a pained grimace as she was sure he would swallow her whole and fear was knowing at her bones.

'_Jeez, Nate could ya've been any warmer?_' The ginger thought, sighing. He stepped forward, determined to erase the fear from her baby blues. "Pickles, ma'am." He smiled warmly, offering his hand. When she placed hers in his, she could feel the callouses. He kissed it gently, politely, warmly, and dropped it. "The drummah." He smelled of whiskey and tobacco, and Thora liked him immediately. She tried to whisper a hello, but nothing escaped her pale lips. He smiled back nonetheless.

Gappy McGapperson was the next to step up. He offered his scarred hand, which she took half-afraid. He kissed it, just as Pickles had, only he slobbered a little bit. "Whilliam Murderfache. Baschischt of Detschklok." He lisped proudly as the others tried to stifle laughter. Thora discreetly wiped off he saliva.

"Das pleasure." She spoke in a quiet, nearly compassionate whisper, barely audible. She wasn't sure why she took that tone with Murderface, but he seemed to react well.

The last to step up was the Nord. He got very, very close from her, and she could feel the chill from his skin. He peered down at her, frozen eyes glistening in the slowly-fading light. He took a rather large hand, tucking a finger under her chin, and tilting her face up. Chills crawled through her skin, but she stared up boldly. "Greats, another Toki." He grumbled.

Nathan shouldered him. "Say hello." He ordered.

The Nord sneered. "Fines, dildo." He turned back to Thora, her face still bravely turned upwards to look at the Ice King. "I amnest Skwisgaar Skwigelf, da fastest guitars player in da worlds. I amnest taller dan da trees, ands I ams a Gods." He continued, glowering. His eyes smoldered in what Thora thought was pain. It wouldn't be, she was being stupid. It was hatred. "You's ams little Thora Wartooths, Toki's long losted sisters from homes." He bent down so their noses were touching. "Just what we needs, another good for not'ing whining brat."

And just like that, he strode away. Everyone looked at least _slightly_ awestruck. Toki tucked a quivering Thora under his arm.

"Don't mind him doode, er, doodette. He's a class A douchebag. Now, come on in before ya catch a cold er somethin'." Pickles ushered her inside, taking control of the situation. "Nat'an, Will, how 'bouts ya go have a chat wit' our good Swedish doode, eh?"

They nodded, whispering to each other, and heading off after the path of the Blizzard. Pickles took to Thora's left as Toki led her inside. Two Gears grabbed the two bags she had to her name, and disappeared. Thora went to protest, but Toki soothed, explaining they'd be safe.

"So, 'm so fackin' sawry 'bout Skwis. He's a douchebag, but I really dunno whut his problem is t'day. Prob'ly on his period er somethin'. Eh doodette?" This send Toki and Pickles into a fit of chuckled, and made Thora smile brightly. They led her to a spacious living room where she curled up into an armchair as Toki and Pickles took to share a couch.

"So, Thora, would you like a drink?" Pickles offere das a Klokateer appeared, handing him a Heineken.

"Any thing to drink My Lord?" The Gear asked, his voice deep and wheezy.

"Something sweets." Toki commented. "Thora, Vil du noe?" _Thora, do you want anything?_

"Kan jeg ha litt te?"_May I have some tea?_ She replied softly in her comfortable Norweigian.

"En ekte drink, Thora. Alkohol?" _A real drink, Thora. Alcohol?_

"Teas with Jack's honey ins it, please." Thora asked the Gear, who promptly disappeared. He was just as confused as Pickles with the exchange.

Meanwhile:

"Skwis, open the damn door." Nathan roared. They'd spent ten minutes banging on his door. Finally, the shirtless guitarist answered.

"What does you wants? Toki sends you to tells me to plays nice with his _isprinsessa (_ice princess)? Wells, I don't wants to! I don'ts even wants to see's her!" The blonde snarled. Nathan swung and collided with his side. Skwis was rebound from the energy, but not hurt. Nathan hadn't swung _that_ hard.

"She's Toki's _sister_. You _will_ socialize tonight. You _will_ be nice to her. Be nice to her. You _won't _scare her, or be cruel. After tonight, I don't give a damn if you even look at her." Ofdensen commented as he rounded the corner. "But if you value anything, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, you will do what you're told." Charles never stopped, he just kept moving towards his office. He rounded the corner, and popped his head back around.

"And Nathan, don't damage our guitarist. He's too well insured."

"Fucks. Come on den! Get dis overs with." Skwis snapped, grabbing a shirt and storming towards the elevator.

"Whiskeys eh? A little strongs for you, don'ts you thinks?_" _There stood the voice's owner, lounging in tge doorway. Even from that far, Thora could see that smolder. That almost-pained look. He would listen to Ofdensen. He'd leave her alone, but in his anger, in the inability to simply hide and play and fuck in his room, Skwis would bring Toki to a rage. She could deal with _that_. She'd probably run and hide and cry.

"Leaves her alone, Skwisgaar." Toki sounded annoyed, nearly menacingly. _'Oh, fun!'_ the Swede thought. That tone surprised Thora.

"Just a questions, Toki. Let her answers. She haves a voice, ja?" Ten eyes turned to watch her.

She sat up straight. There was something about him that begged her to challenge him.

"No. Not strongs, Swede. It calms the nerve. You should try it sometimes." Her voice, the first _real_ sentence she'd spoken, came out smoothly, boldly.

"Oh, ja? Ams dat what you thinks? She's braver dan you's, Toki. Förhoppningsvis håller hon dricker lika bra, eller hon kommer att hamna i min säng." _Hopefully, she holds her drink just as well, or she'll end up in my bed._

Toki launched himself across the room. His eyes changed to a cold, dark, soulless blue; nearly an indigo. Pickles tore after Toki as Nathan and Murderface moved in front of a cackling Skwisgaar.

"Jeg hater deg! I HATES YOU!" He was snarling like a rabid yard wolf. Toki swung wildly, watching Pickles in the jaw with an elbow.

Thora watched from her chair as the three of them managed to wrestle Toki to the ground. She remembered his rage fits from when they were children. Only now, he was jacked, stronger than each of them. Luckily, it was three on one, so they had a chance. Swkisgaar's icy eyes met Thora's and the smoldering returned. He turned on his heels, and disappeared, but from the sounds of his laughs, didn't go far.

Thora shivered as the boys hauled Toki upright, Nathan holding his arms behind his back as he kicked, just kicked the air, wildly.

"Du vil være død før du kan lukte whisky på pusten hennes!" _You'll be dead before you can smell the whiskey on her breath! _Toki screamed. The other three looked to Thora, holding tight to her brother. She shivered, knowing he meant it. He continued, laughing coldly. "Jeg skal kutte deg sakte, svensken. Gjør du føler det. Fore deg til ulvene, bit for bit. Jeg skal lytte til deg skrike, trygler. Du vil ønske du aldri hadde sett henne."_ I'll cut you slowly, Swede. Make you feel it. Feed you to the wolves, piece by piece. I'll listen to you scream, plead. You'll wish you'd never seen her._ Thora gave a rough, quick translation as two out of three faces paled, and turned green.

She rose. "Toki, det er nok. Du mister den, miste kontrollen. Ikke gi etter for demonene, Toki. Jeg liker ikke å slåss demonene." _Toki, that is enough. You're losing it, losing control. Don't give into the demons, Toki. I don't like fighting the demons. _Skwisgaar shivered from the hall. Thora strode towards the group menacingly. Pickles, mopping at his bloody lip, stared as her eyes darkened to the same shade as Toki's.

"Doodes, she's doin' it too…" He whispered, fearing she'd lash out like Toki. She wasn't as strong, but they had a hard enough time with him. Toki snarled, struggling against Nathan.

Skwisgaar stepped from his spot in the hall back into the doorway. "Lets him go Nat'ans." He was wide eyed, and alert. He never thought _she'd_ demonize too. Nathan oblidged to avoid any further injury to himself. The four backed up.

"Thora…" Nathan warned. "he gets… dangerous."

Thora scoffed. "You thinks because I ams da girls, I can not fights?" They were pacing around each other like yard wolves, eyes locked, unblinking, the same dark, demonic shade of hatred. Toki growled, feral. Thora grimaced, knowing where it could lead. She had been smart enough to hide when he got like this as a child, to run. Now, though, she was less sensible.

"Du ønsker å gjøre dette tispe?" _You want to do this bitch?_ Toki stood, tall, eyes colder than ice. "Du kan alltid kjøre som du alltid har gjort. Skjul fra den store stygge Toki." _You could always run like you always have. Hide from the big bad Toki. _He was lost in himself; his _other_ self. The _isen demonen. _The ice demon.

Thora, in anger, lunged at Toki, knocking him into the wall. He swung, a single hit, and she flew. She crashed into the ground, but she didn't make a sound.

"Du ønsker å gå, Thora? Du ønsker å kjempe? Prøver å være modig som Thor vil ikke spare deg nå! Du er _ingenting_." _You want to go, Thora? You want to fight? Trying to be brave like Thor won't save you now! You are _nothing. He roared.

Thora picked herself up, wiping at a cut on her face. She went to go again, and again she was thrown. A shot to the stomach left her retching on her knees as Toki snarled, grinning. But, to Dethklok's amazement, she picked herself back up silently.

"Kom igjen litt Thora. Du er svak. Jeg kan drepe deg." _Come on little Thora. You're weak. I could kill you. _Bloodlust entered Toki's dark, cruel eyes, and three-fifths of the band panicked visibly. Toki stepped towards his smaller half, gripping her throat, and they were sure she was dead. But, there was a flash of blonde. He had started it, and much to his disdain, the stupid little snowflake had gotten involved.

In a moment, Thora was being helped up by a bleeding Pickles, and Skwisgaar had Toki pinned against the wall, his knee in his crotch, lifting the shorter man off the ground, hands pinned above his head. It was nearly sexual.

"Men du kommer inte kommer du Toki? Thora, ta ut dem nu." _But you won't will you Toki? Thora, take them out, now. _The Swede's voice was ice. Everyone froze. Skwisgaar stared hard at Toki. Thora nodded quietly, nursing her injuries and her pride.

"He says we haves to leaves now."

"But Schkwisgaar—"

"—Can handle himself, Will. C'mon." Nathan muttered. "He deserves whatever Toki does to him for getting him like this." He led the way out with Pickles clinging to Thora's side, and Murderface nervously bringing up the rear. Not a lot unsettled the band, but Toki's demon fits was one of the few.

Nathan led them to a bright room, which she discovered was the medical wing. Gears in white rushed to help, but Nathan glowered and they ran. Pickles and Seth could have a hell of a brawl, and Toki always gave a hell of a blood-fest, but that was painful to watch. The four of them _knew_ better than to get up when Toki put them down. He left you alone if you let him win, and then he would go and calm down, and never remember.

"Listen, Thora." Nathan started.

"'m sorrys." She whispered. Bruises starting to surface on her face, her arms, her everything.

"We could have handled it." He continued, ignoring the fact she had spoken. "And that was stupid, dangerous, but brutal. He could have killed you."

Thora stared at the linoleum.

"Doode, lay off. She was savin' my ass, yer ass. He went _easy_ on her." Thora shivered at that thought as Pickles starting dabbing at her cuts with a whiskey-soaked rag.

"Schtill, we know to schtay down when he landsch the firscht schot." Murderface cut in, twirling a knife in his scarred hands.

"You're not gonna last here acting like that. I know you're new here, new to Toki kinda, but take my word of advice." They heard screaming, a mix of Swedish, Norweigian, and English. They heard something, many things breaking. "Run the other way." Nathan turned and headed up a visible flight of stairs.

"I thinksch he likesch you." Murderface observed.

"Ya doodette. Oh, sawry." Thora winced at a particularly bad cut. "Bat Nate's right, Jast run."

They heard more screaming, and then… silence.

"He did that's when we was littles. But, he be stronger nows."

"I betsch. He kicksch my asch every time."

They sat there for another five minutes before Pickles opened a bottle of something or other, and were passing it around. It took the edge off the pain. Skwisgaar strode, well, limped in really, soon after that carrying a passed out Toki.

"Shit doode! What'd ya do to 'm!?"

"He gots what he deserved." From the looks of him, Skwis had _really_ roughed him up. The Swede laid him on a nearby gurney. He was in pretty bad shape himself, but he headed towards the stairs Nathan had taken. He turned to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in a cocky sneer.

"Lite hon-djävul, lära sig att hålla sig borta från vägen." _Little she-devil, learn to stay out of the way._

A/N: Wow! That was a long one, but that was to make up for the long absence :D! Feedback please? And just to clear this up before wild flamers appear, Skwis saved her because he started the whole thing, not because he's "magically" in love with her. His issues with her _will_ be revealed, so be patient. Love y'all!


	4. Jackalope Fury

Disclaimer: I do, in no way, own Metalocalypse, or any of its settings, characters, or items. I do, however, own Thora Wartooth, and her belongings, personality, and appearance although she is based off previously created characters.

Authors Note: Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! My computer died, like, 100% and college ate my life! But my computer's fixed now. I am just, oh my gosh, so sorry for not writing. Forgive me?

Although punctuality was a necessity on Charles' **List Of Important Things**_,_ he felt this meeting just simply could _not_ wait for eight o'clock. So, at six fifty eight p.m, the manager of the world's most important economical force sat in his leather chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, and then making his fingers into a steeple, tucking the top under his chin. His mousey brown hair was slightly disheveled from running his hand through it time after time, and his glasses were the tiniest bit askew from his meddling with them. Habits he made a mental note to break. Aggravated was a word he had left behind long ago.

"So, Toki, would you like to tell me, ah, why all three Scandinavians under my roof are severely bruised?" He ventured, cringing inwardly at his fear of the answer. They were beyond bruised. They were fucked up beyond all reason.

"But Charles, Pickle ams hurt too! Hims ams not a Scandeenaveeycan." Toki's child-like simplicity and innocence still took Charles by surprise. He almost had to chuckle. The kid was pretty cute. To keep face, he turned his steely gaze to the silent, sullen, slumped body beside her brother.

"Ah, yes Toki. What happened to the, ah, four of you?"

"Jackalopeses, boss." His imitation of Pickes voice was incredible, and shocked him far more than his answer.

Charles eyes flew open as his jaw damn near hit the table. "Ah, what!?"

"A Jackalopes, Charles. Yous know, it ams American legend. Body of cutes little bunnies, antlers of—"

"I know what a, ah, Jackalope is, Toki."

_I just want to know if you expect me to believe that bullshit._ He thought quietly. _Must be one of Pickles plans. Oh, Pickles…_

A memory flashed behind his eyes as a flush crept onto his face, but he shook his head sharply, knocking his focus back into place.

"Then whys da question, Charlies? It ams just viciousest little creatue I ever did saws."

"You ever did see, Toki."

"I's ever did sees. _Ja_ Charles. I ams not so goods at the rememberings part, 'cause it ass kicked us, buts Pickle says—"

Charles blocked out the rest of the statement. He knew it! But a Jackalope? Charles knew a demon fit when he saw the aftermath, but to see Thora so injured damn near broke his heart. The poor little thing. Tok had beat her badly, but from what Nathan said, she hadn't so much as said "ouch". He just hoped Toki didn't make a habit out of it.

"Yes Toki." He visibly shifted his attention to the other Wartooth. "Miss Wartooth, it is quite a shame that we are meeting under such, ah, _interesting_ circumstances."

Thora looked up from her lap, her eyes cold, spiteful. They reminded him of Skwisgaar. And he shuddered.

_ Maybe Toki isn't who I have to worry about with brawling…_

"Ah, yes, I am very sorry to hear about your circumstances, and you are welcome to stay here for as long as you require."

Toki gave his sister's hand a re-assuring squeeze as he giggled and nodded. Little bastard always got his way.

"However," Charles continued, ignoring the thawing in his chest. "You have no money, and cannot stay for free." Matching faces fell. Toki's in his face, Thora's in her eyes. They melted.

" So, I offer this suggestion. You are a, ah, lovely woman, and Dethklok just so happens to be opening a new line of female clothing and, ah, accessories."

Thora nodded, not sure where this was going, fear a raging tempest in her chest. Where could she go?

"It is our interest that you, ah, _model_ for DethChik. Earn your keep and such."

He paused, turning to the task of cleaning his glasses to give her time to mull it over.

Toki froze, suddenly the childishness fleeing. Although they both knew it was a façade, and he could turn it on and off at will to get his way. Why did he feel like "model" had some underlying, unspoken meaning?

Thora did too. She sighed silently. She was being sold, again.

"Charlie, I's don't thinks it ams such a good ideas, and –"

"_Ja."_ She cut her other half off. "I ams at your disposals." She struggled with the words, knowing what they could possibly mean for her, but her eyes were as cold as ice, and she knew what she had to do. She would do anything to stay. Even sell her soul to the cameras, her body to the crowd.

**One Hour Later:**

The Swede slipped into his office with a smirk. "How be Pickle?"

Charles was taken aback. "How should I know?" The knife cut into his voice. He had just met pith Pickles in the back hall to his office to confront him about the Jackalope bullshit. But it hadn't gone as planned. When he saw the gash oh Pickles lip from Toki's stray elbow, he had tenderly kissed it. And Pickles has let him. Again.

"I amnest thinkings you should, considerabling what I ams seeing in da hallways."

Charles paled. Skwisgaar had seen his brief talk about the bullshittery.

He'd seen them…

Oh God!

He composed himself, thinking quickly. There had to be something nasty he knew about Skwisgaar. There had to be…

The light bulb flickered on, and a grin spread across his shaved, smooth face. He could blackmail too, only, the Manager was better at it. Damn, he hadn't become the babysitter of Dethklok by kissing ass and sucking dick.

**Five Minutes Later: **

"YOU'S AMNEST NOT FUCKIN' SERIOUS!" The cold, Swedish voice boomed, rattling the windows in Charles' office in a way that would have made Nathan proud.

"I am one hundred percent serious." There was a growl in Charles voice that was very uncharacteristic of him. It was threatening. They were on grounds now no man was to cross, but the Ice King had made that mistake. And now he would pay for it. Dearly.

Several moments passed in silence as Charles bore holes into the top of the Swede's skull. Finally, the blonde looked up, eyes solid, frozen. "Ofdensens, yous amnest not serious. Ams you?" Skwisgaar lowered his voice to a growl, staring angrily into his lap, fingers playing out an inaudible riff. He knew his anger would get him no where except in some exploiting media magazine with every secret he kept so close to him.

"Oh, but I am very serious, Skwisgaar. You're going to do it."

The Ice King glared upward, his eyes startling Charles. They were as cold as Thora's had been when he'd explained this part to her

"But she amnest…" He searched for a word, finding none to his Swedish equivalent. "Toki sisters. I can nots even stands him!"

Charles leaned across the desk, glowering. His anger was beyond belief at the Swede, who had tried to blackmail him into getting Thora to leave, and then defied him.

"Mr. Skwigelf, my little bulimic ice king, you will touch her, hold her, caress her, and look like a sex God as long as the Photographer asks for it. You will pose how you are told, and you will not complain. Unless you'd like your eating disorders to make headlines for the rest of your life. Is that understood?" Charles was forehead to forehead now with the fastest guitar player in the world. And he snarled low, deep, a rumbling in his chest.

Skwisgaar was honestly scared shitless. He hadn't seen Charles lose it like this since Will tried the stupid sand-scape thing in the living room. He had no idea what to do other than tuck his tail between his slender legs, and take a deep blow to his pride. Nobody could know. Nobody.

"Okays, Charlie." He managed to whimper, trying to keep a disagreeable tone in his voice. But the last time Charles had lost it like this, he'd disappeared for a few days. And the last thing the band needed was that again.

Charles took a step back, settling in his chair, and attempted to rub the migraine from his temples. "I'm glad we've reached an understanding Skwisgaar." He rose, having an urgent need to escape the confines of his office.

As he reached the door, he paused, keeping his eyes focused on the task ahead.

"And Skwisgaar, if you ever threaten me again, threaten her again, threaten…" He swallowed hard, keeping the seething calm in his voice, "Pickles again, you won't make it out of this office in anything but a body bag."


End file.
